dark lover on a beautiful horse
you will not enjoy this, he alleged
as the inner child died in me
as the inner child cried in me
and the first drop of blood
dribs in the form of a delirium
stranded somewhere
between the oath of evil and
the darkness`s of pleasure
the second blood …
it splattered like a sunburst
because
we want dark lovers
on beautiful horses
but we instead get men
who shower us with flowers
and stand outside our bedroom windows;
no doubt
he sees my soul
when he peels back
the black lash of curtains
and seizes that lone tear drop
on your belly, he demands my body
a one hand noose wraps around my throat
the other guts, then splays open my wisdom
obscured by desperation; I need this `just breathe, okay?`
and he wants to do me
with a dildo and a vibrator
where one stimulates
and one penetrates
but my flesh is not the digital masque
these buttons that he de`presses
do not send me into a virtual ecstasy
why do you waste your time? I dare ask.
but there`s a fault in my system
a pheromone that calls to the unsavory
as he leaves me standing vacant
at the window
struggling to breathe
kicking my feet, pussy gushing blue
as I continue to feel the strangle
of his con`sexual violation;
he was a caller, a gentleman just before dawn
walking down that promiscuous dirt road
where the crossroads of my uncertainty
pointed the way in arrows; he never looks back
and I never look forward … I don`t know
if it even was a rape as it felt like winter
in bedlam
still … it was something even
if it had no meaning.
I light a cigarette and inhale
because it`s the best I can do for the moment
rape`possessed
vocal is raspy … carries
like a crime that breaks its back
upon the spotlight of my breasts;
a nipple sings the blues, thus creates a hue ~
I am that sunburst fracturing in his mouth;
nicotine strains my fingers – pussy & index
taste its pleasure while the rest of my flesh
fights the urge …
he has to submerge himself
drag
exhale
I
drag
and he
exhales
come back to bed bitch,
he whimpers like skeletons locked in closets
only visible through the plumes they smoke;
hair pulls through my scalp
as I remember picking dandelions
in the cold summer
one callous blow, and their fetuses scatter to the wind …
bastard children they are
in search of their fathers in all the mistresses
that had shaped him;
legs spread like withered wings
pussy`iron`butterfly, I wants to fly fly fly
but the air is oxygen`less
and crushes the lungs … he has a system
for lying on top of me, hips gyrate
pelvis rapes in rhythmic emotions ~
he humps
he breathes
breathes harder / faster / slower
then there`s nothin`
but a silence deadlier than death
and I want more;
I I don`t know what to make of his company
only that I`m obsessed with gazing at him
through a sort of a looking glass mirror … his cock
it stands high, erect, the tallest building
and I want to be a bird
and perch upon it, slip my beak
in between the crack of his slit
and purge the se`men
who have sailed my woman`ship
out of the harbor
only to have my broken body
float back in;
did I tell you I missed you, motherfucker?
missed the intrusion despite the illusions fabricated?
90 proof booze on the table
I am bent over the table
and I see the RCA spinning
a damsel in heated distress …
I smell cubano leaves burning
and hear the agony
of third world slaves
echo`ing from the cinders
smoldering in your mouth ~
your chest heaves wildly
in the land of sodomization,
your cock stretches my anal womb
each push is a masochistic thrust of trust
just don`t shit on my cock, you whispere`d
you brush back my pubic hair / wipe the tears from my lips
she`s coming up the stairs
and the best I can do
is swallow you in,
and pull you through
the broken hymens of society
so when the door opens
she`ll never know
we did things in the dark
slave
scarlet rooster crows
death S O L D
to the highest bidder;
barbiturate bitches
perched in slumber rows
emulate visual inhibitions
of Kama Sutras as the “I’s”
of the un~naked
grunt Ketamine dust
masturbating to hymns
of opportune wonderlust;
as the scent
of sandy musk(s)
transcend into psalms
of rustic dusk
striations in the form of V’s ~ plead, tear jerked
to be stroked,
provoked,
invoked;
bad hits from a bad fix
she pants, she digs
vaginal scorpions
from her shallow womb;
harems of virgin harlots
they ~whisper~ to her:
‘Curanderas‘
shattered witchy women
clothed from eye-to-toes
ageless tattoo’s of turquoise’d turtles
translate biblical kismets
at the rupture of her
hymen
she bleeds deflowered *Amen* ~
I want my maggots kissed
epidural.
I feel nothing.
skintiments
are like
a jigsaw puzzle;
I cannot interlock myself
<———————-back
—->to that copious landscape
where mad cows &
blind crows came to
graze and perch upon;
& once upon
I was that
unvarying pain
reflecting
off your tongue
where you spat
tears of saliva
’cause you refused
to irrigate my bushes;
you are numb inside,
so you say, then you say,
I’m a tokophobic
’cause e-v-e-r-y-thing
you deposit in me
there seems to always be
that jewel encrusted scalpel
assembling upon my virgin flesh
resembling
slut digging maggots;
burdens
terminated,
excavated,
disposed
in a doggy
bag;
then you say
you’re empty
inside,
then you
have a cigarette,
change the channel
on the HD
as if your fucking misery
is all my fucking fault.
but
& still
I feel nothing.
just like those
“in-labor” mothers
giving birth
to fucks
like you.
Poem #36…(thank you Frankie Valli)
.and big girls don’t cry.
whiskey
diamond
teardrops
plunge eternally
from my cunt ~
she weeps bittersweet
for you;
I’m 80% proof
[20% denial]
that my clit
is capable
of moving heaven
without
the gentle fondles
of your tongue and
fingers ~
‘big girls don’t cry’, so you once said
when you left me
desperately
suckling your cum’s residue
off my heartbroken tits;
the twins miss the subtle
of your hands and
mouth;
and ‘big girls don’t cry’,
I dare to echo you ~
I wish you could see me now,
how disappointed
you’d be
sinking me
to a level
of no shame.
.pale shade of misery.
and the taste of you
remains
red raptors galloping across my tongue
sprout de-feathered wings
of salted sulfur
shedding barbed wire scales
w/ tooth and nail
off my flagrant skin;
you licked my cunt
then kissed my lips
so how deep
did my love go?
I want to make out
w/ your mouth
and have you scream
my name
in agony ~
it’s midnight
and my bedside
is empty
for I have a broken face
that I cannot piece
back together
but I can paint the thrashes
where ‘X’ marks my grave
the way leopards
paint the spots on their skin ~
tell me, Sir Demon within,
when we meet again,
will you stitch up my heart
so it’s no longer jagged
in two. . .missing wires?
And please,
don’t touch my face,
this pale shade of misery
is hard to find
in a drugstore.
~ Cuervo Fire In My Blood
v e
semen throttle thrust o rdose
white crotchless panty’s
hang on the [clothes]line
leaving the battered
of dildo zombies
preparing for the next flesh war
under a pink mushroom head sky;
~
I am a one woman,
a~sexual
in my southern comfort
cunt-try
no amount of Jack Daniel’s
can drink away
these bluegrass tears
while hooded gators
snap at my feet, and
cuervo fire burns in my blood;
~
he once reigned under my body
with his silver flask tongue
he said he’d take me to church
if he could put a ring
on my va~Gina
and not on my finger;
his cigarette ash lush
still lingers carnivorously
when my thighs part
and kiss the sky;
~
I swallowed
this shallow and dense grave of ours
after you castrated
the bull who sodomized my parched womb;
eventually
I grew our little piece of birdcage heaven
on my tongue
and we frenched kiss our wings
to Paris via a tourniquet
dipped in cuervo caliche
the color of rustic earp blood.
Diva of Darkness: volumes I~III Promotion
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(click on book covers to download)
the Devil, too, comes
his body quaked
and shuddered
as he watched
the distant inferno
melt the flesh
off her Angelic face;
he comes instantly
on his hand, spitting
fire demon semen
into the recesses
of Hell
death, in the Devil’s eyes,
had never looked
so deathly pornographic
Dead Head Metal Banger Bitch
dead head metal banger bitch
and you slam danced
far beyond the crevices of my soul
turning my bright days, black
turning my blue nights, red
fucking my equilibrium, grey
leaving my body hollow
to wallow in self-cum whiskey
and Satanic crack
and I don’t see the end
only you coming back
and back coming back
like a sightless uroboros
de-fractured by the cheap
of your Devil’s blow
not knowing which way to go, except
scarring my re-birth from Christianity
as we in turn took turns
fucking our noses dizzy
until I had visions of Miss Lizzy
carrying a bouquet of crucifix axes
in an array of multi-blood-hued colors as
I leaned across the fleshed fields
of your fleshed lips and spliced your mouth open;
and you kissed me deep into an erotic sleep
and there you smiled clothless beneath
the orgasmic rain
of my communal blood
showering over you, with you
wearing only my foreskin as your hat
Death Dealer #66
I woke up aggravatingly hornier than the night before
mislaid without the sense of prepaid gratification
from that stupid whore now stumbling out the apt. door
Beneath a vehement deluge I thought about that magnificent
Theatre of Incest, the fucking dog barking incessantly down the street
that barmaid with Jell-O for fake tits, that old man who acted like a bitch
all gone, all gone, all gone right where they belong
in that unholiest sanctuary they assume Dante’s Paradiso
I took a hit of the Devil’s blow, read my list, then took a hard piss
in that open cesspool of mouths coupled with the shameless and the breathing
feeding off Catholics who are misleading, Christians who live their lives by Jesus
“Jesus!” what a fucking mess, much less, it is for the best, I guess, if I blessed those
living in some post-idealistic place, not chased by the demon lovers of regret,
ensnared by the demon haters of no mercy; his name is Percy, and he sits
one stool opposite from me, 66 years of pouring tears into his warm beer, then sighing and crying wishing he were dying, dead, gone from this disenchanted place
once called Eden, now called South of Eden, my place, the Death Dealers place,
I show Percy no mercy and he dies swift and just, back to that Eden of lust
where his ancestors thrived before the serpent apocalypse eclipsed with the light like tonight
Fist Fuck
he shoved his fist
up her pre-oiled pussonian
and rearranged
her organs
to accommodate
his needs;
she stirred
when her tubes
sucked vacuumed
her eggs, broken shells
fleshy yolks, evoke
then vacate
when he pulls his fist;
her womb settles
like patina fragments
in a Monet landscape
portrait; occasionally
they liked to
paint their
macabre
just before the break
of sunrise when
the rooster crowed
its best
Pirating Underground
Cowboy Junkies
from Hell
ride your faceless
demons
whiskey vodka
sex
&
black hearts
surmount
& you’re pretty still
behind
your naked breasts
Desperaturbia
Clipping toenails scatter
in the
sink
My anxiety
needs to
rethink
desperately of us
Your cigarette butt ashes
embed on my
tongue
And your black market
perfume reeks
of maggot
beauty
Domestupidy
I can’t take it anymore,
your fightin’ words
riddle like bullets
in my head
You stroll across the room,
your bare ass thighs sit
parted on the sofa,
your lips purse
I tell you all we’re good for is
orgies and social dinners, but
I’m ignored as usual, you’re
unusual, as usual
I tell you, if you love him,
then set me free! Oh
for fucks sake, stop
fucking with me!
I need another drink, another
excuse for you to wallow in
self-pity; and this house of
domesticity has become a
house of domestupidy
I’d like to think we’re better
than this so I hand you my
cigarette and tell you to
do that thing with
your gifted clit
I hold my scotch breath; I envy
the way your pussy smokes
my cigarette, an obvious
connotation that my
dick is no match.
DIVA of DARKNESS 